


This World Below

by mlle



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Agnostic Character, Baptist, Christianity, Easter, Gen, Georgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlle/pseuds/mlle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Easter, 2273</p>
            </blockquote>





	This World Below

That Sunday, Joanna's up well before dawn, driving out of the city. Toccoa's a good haul, up in the northeast corner of the state, and she doesn't want to arrive late and draw attention to herself. It'll be enough that she's who she is, that some of the townspeople will remember going to grade school with her father. She has a momentary flash of panic — they'll want nothing to do with her, daughter of the prodigal who never returned — but she's nothing if not stubborn and halfway to her destination, she's not backing out now.

The radio begins to play an old Terran gospel song, so she turns up the volume and tries to remember the words.

...

They call First Baptist 'the Church on the hill.' It wasn't her family's congregation; she isn't even sure her family had a congregation. But something about the pictures Joanna'd seen when flicking through the church listings — the old red brick building, the steeple, and all that blue sky behind it — charmed her and comforted her and made her want to visit.

At the front door to the church, Joanna smooths her skirt, feels a tightening in her gut. She's just about to turn around and flee when an usher in a wheelchair reaches out to shake her hand.

"Welcome to First Baptist," the older man says in a thick Southern accent. "We're just about full up, but there should be room at the back for just one of you." His grip is firm but gentle, warm and a little papery.

"Thank you," Joanna says. She smiles. She can do this. Ain't nothing scary here.

She takes a seat in the last pew, next to a large family. Directly beside her sits a nervous-looking Trill. He holds the hand of a cheerful-looking black woman — his wife, Joanna guesses, and her family stretching out down the pew. Joanna scans the rest of the church for other non-Terrans. It can be hard to tell from behind, but she sees one or two others.

Not the only outsider, then. It's been nearly a hundred years since Earth stepped out of the shadow of fundamentalism, but Joanna's still glad she picked a church where it's okay to bring your alien husband home for Easter.

She keeps looking around the room, taking in the stage with its simple chairs, the pale wooden cross on the wall, the ledge suggesting the baptismal pool directly in front of it. She hears the pews creaking in unison just before she realizes everyone is standing. Off to the right, a woman begins to play the piano. A large vidscreen descends from the ceiling, displaying words just as the woman at the piano and the choir begin to sing.

_The morning purples all the sky,_  
The air with praises rings,  
Defeated hell stands sullen by,  
The world exulting sings.

She follows along attentively as the congregation sits and service continues. The Easter story is familiar enough, but the songs, the few crowd responses, the pastor's deep voice, these keep her engaged. He talks for some time about separation from a beloved — the Apostles' separation from Jesus between death and resurrection.

When the pastor calls for a few moments of silent contemplation, Joanna lowers her head and grips her hands together tightly. She's thinking of her father. They haven't talked in months. He didn't call her on Christmas and hasn't called her since, and sure, he's busy on the famous Enterprise and she's busy at the hospital — people can't seem to stop dying or getting themselves hurt — and it's not like her mama would be understanding or anything other than cynical about his lack of communication. Maybe they didn't even celebrate Christmas on the ship, she thinks. Maybe they're not celebrating Easter either. It makes her feel sadder, though she couldn't say why.

Joanna keeps her head down and tries to will away tears as the singing starts up again. Halfway through the hymn, there's a small tap on her shoulder. The Trill next to her is holding the communion platter, little cups of grape juice arranged around crackers. He waits for her to understand, to take it from his hands, then offers her a small smile. She passes it on to the young girl on the other side of her without taking anything.

She wasn't raised with religion and she wasn't raised in any real sense by the father that came from this little churchgoing town. She isn't sure anymore why she's here.

The girl next to her has passed the platter on and is turning back to Joanna. She really isn't that young, maybe 19 or 20, and she's alone. Joanna worries she did something wrong.

"You okay?" the girl whispers.

Joanna clears her throat before whispering back, "Yeah. Sort of. Family stuff."

The girl nods, smiles. "You're sticking around for the barbecue, right?"

She hadn't planned on it. In that moment, she wanted out as fast as possible. But there's something kind and hopeful in the girl's eyes, and Joanna doesn't want to tell her no. The last hymn ends and the pastor dismisses the congregation to the lawn for the barbecue and Easter Egg hunt. The kids down the pew stand, ready to bolt.

The girl stands, looks back to Joanna expectantly. "Right?" she repeats.

Joanna nods once, then again. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to. I just gotta make a call first."

...

There's a bench outside the church, facing the big lawn and the edge of the forest beyond it. Joanna takes a seat, pulls out her vidphone and unlocks the screen. She's pulling up her address book when an incoming call flashes on the display.

"Dad," she answers, a little hesitant.

"Joanna, sweetheart." Her father is beaming at her through the screen. "Happy Easter! I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, Dad, you didn't wake me up." She glances quickly out at the lawn, at the kids running around hunting eggs, at the girl from inside standing some distance away. "I was just about to call you."

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to inaneenglish, who wrote me a novel's worth of reference materials on Easter at a Baptist church in the South. She's the reason this exists.
> 
> [First Baptist Church of Toccoa](fbc.toccoa.org) is a real place. In my mind, they've kept up the 20th century building, so it still looks basically the same. Toccoa is, of course, the town where DeForest Kelley was born, and has been associated with Bones' hometown in fanon. It, and the church, are right on the edge of the Chattahoochee National Forest, which in my mind also still exists in the 23rd century.
> 
> This fic has an accompanying mix, which you can listen to [here](http://8tracks.com/nonmodernist/this-world-below).


End file.
